


A story I made awhile back!

by DisturbedWritter



Category: Original Work
Genre: Bad Writing, Blood and Gore, I'm Bad At Tagging, Other, axes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:19:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22222438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DisturbedWritter/pseuds/DisturbedWritter
Summary: A failed story universe i made a few years ago. You can ask me about it in the comments!
Relationships: Air x Air
Comments: 4
Kudos: 3





	A story I made awhile back!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [IllMadeKnight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IllMadeKnight/gifts).



Dejohn Episode One: The Animoids

Just sand, guns, cities, and death was my world. I’ve seen things I’d never thought to be imaginable become reality. Giant snakes and men engulfed in flame were my new normal I guess, or as normal as the U.S of A could be. I frequently take myself in and out of the city, obviously to survive in this destructive world. I somewhat have been having this illusion of a person wearing black Sherlock clothes with a fedora, covered in what I assume to be ash. I could never see his skin or face if he had any But Herlock or Rigid, He’s quite funny. 

These monsters or aliens that I fight are what I like to call “Angels”. Elegant and cunning like foxes but if provoked by us or one of their kin, they can be as deadly as a den of hungry lions. They are only able to be killed by their own arsenal of native weapons but are still damaged by our tools. Some mix blood with them forming “Nephilim” or “Angel-bloods”, Even having sex with them if necessary. These hybrids make my heart boil like a raging volcano and contort like a burning cog, spiraling out of control. 

I have a buggy, a dark leafy green with busted headlights.Having scars on what I’ve considered its cheeks carries my camera. Recently in these most tiresome days, I have made the city my territory, A king of nothing. I achieved all this when the humanoid and animal infused monstrosities or as I like to call them “Animoids” came to my city. They look like multiple large animals such as hippos, seals, elephants, lions, and other animal heads onto human heads. 

They strolled through my city as a herd. 15 to 18 of them clothed in brown sheets that were torn up and down. I had no plan to deal with them, just the weapons I had my disposal. My shotgun, a Mossberg 500, made quick work of the hippo like creature turning his snout into a bloody mess looking like a tomato spitting out teeth and bone. Another animoid resembling ran at me in a freakish rush of anger lik e a bull seeing a red cloth. I shot the thing square in the chest, but the overgrown monster was still kicking despite the large wound I inflicted on his chest. 

After the wind was knocked from my chest by the monster before me, I used the only weapon I had on me. A messily hatchet. I was not a fan of these small and flat things, but it proved useful for smashing the spine of my adversary. Herlock turned a cloaked head downwards, shadows covering his identity. Ash ebbed as he moved like a fierce winter “Now that's what I call a survivor fighting monsters!” he said sure of himself. “No offense “Johnny boy” but that's a mean piece of dead human-angel man meat!” eating an apple as he spat it out, red fruit and saliva flying all over his black wool coat. 

“Wait “Johnny boy!” He burped as he laid a weightless arm on my shoulder,hips swaying like a sassy teenager “Don'tcha like man meat?” He said as his supposed chin rested on my shoulder. I just yanked it forward and was in search for more angels. I reached into my van and pulled out my submachine gun with stickers on it. The silver knife was durable to the chopping block that was the ground. 

Rigid followed after me as i reached for a pistol from the passenger seat that headed in the escapees direction like a lion on a hunt. As our symbiotic relationship grew with questions like “Do you think Hitler would shave and what type of cream?” and “Could death reap a reaper?”,Some other edgy shit like that, I don't it much but i didn't answer his questions either. A small group of animoids rushed out of the alleys like thugs from hell that were on fire, The smiling half bestial and humane expressions stretched to a predator like an angry frown. 1. 2. Were down with two trigger pulls. The bloody mist was sprayed on the floor, Two more shots were fired the at the 3rd and 4th (the latter wasn't killed though)

The damn thing fell over on his chest like a fly, Maybe he was paralyzed so I drew my shitty hatchet with rage and made his neck a black and reddish mush. Even more, came out of the shadows but they were running away in horror like children, good but one of the brave ones, A large big boned lion roared at me with a dumbell. I only heard clicking than a spray, those were the last of my ammo. Shit. Yep. That was going in my head as i learned that he wasn't dead and that a weigh hit my elbow with a swooshing noise. I swiped at the beast with my horrible hatchet and grazed his cheek.

My elbow felt like a smashed stiff machine but my adrenaline kept my movements keen. One shatter was heard when it hit the dumbbell, Head broken with splinters on my fingers. An anger-driven kick made its way to the lion’s manhood, it stumbled back and i had an opportunity to grab a two by four and took it by smashing it in the face. The face of the damn thing split open with a tear of broken wood and broken teeth out from his face like a toothy wet red balloon exploding. I yelled as I cut myself with the wood and sent a punch of rage into his cut.

Finally, my fists were sent into a gorilla fury with the strength of tower and by now I was in my own predator like state, Grabbing the weight was a challenge with my left arm so i kept beating him with a broken wood blank and my fist. Eventually, I was ready to end my bloody friend so I grabbed the black and silver exercise tool and smashed it over and over with fast movements until I was covered in brains and a tongue touched my wrist. This new world was not for my liking and complicated enough without the monsters but one can take pleasure in the pain. Hell has frozen and blend upwards into the cracks of dawn.. The fire stakes of pain were not new to me but not old either. 

The splinters, the medusa statue that my nerves had betrayed that was my elbow and the bath of volcanic penny blood was welcome. It was like running with lucifer on my sides, Lucifer was not pleasant to my sides as you can tell. The beacon of almost hope came to me in an elixir with “Heal” written on it in marker. I say almost because it wouldn't get me out of here….this fucking red and penny filled world. I nearly crushed the bottle over my quivery hot lips, raised by my bad arm in a curl of pain. I drank the strawberry magic that tasted horrid and my being twisted into a working soul. I thanked the god that was not atop of that damn fortress in the north but the man born from nothing and formed our red blood.

I ripped my still uneasy body into my still secret passageway: a manhole cover hidden by a silver trash can and i climbed a ladder that let me to a cave under a library (made by me with a hammer and some digging) and I passed out. In an hour,i got to write in my 3rd journal. My name is Willbert Dejohn and I am the sanest killer alive.

End Of Entry One

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked it, you're a masochist!


End file.
